


If Right Is Leaving, I'd Rather Be Wrong

by blingblingis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, slight violence but it's not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 09:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12554476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blingblingis/pseuds/blingblingis
Summary: A prompt from my tumblr for Deadlock!Jesse with the sentence starter "I told you not to fall in love with me."





	If Right Is Leaving, I'd Rather Be Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> heyo, how about prompt 43 with Deadlock!McCree? something fluffy? your work is amazing so i thought it'd be done awesomely c:
> 
> You can find my imagines blog [here!](https://moreheroimagines.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Since Overwatch doesn’t feature in this prompt I’ve taken a few creative liberties. Namely Jesse being older than he was when he left the Deadlock gang at 18 (I think?) so Jesse is about 20-something here. There is violence in this btw. It’s not bad imo, but just as a forewarning.

You were currently kicking yourself. And also being kicked while you were down. Literally. A steel-toed boot made its presence known in the vicinity of your ribs. And you were fairly certain you heard something crack.

A little bit of advice? Next time the Deadlock gang shows up in your bar maybe don’t tell them to go to hell. Normally you didn’t tangle with the gangs around here, but they were asking about Jesse and there was no way you were going to tell those assholes anything.

Jesse McCree had shown up in your bar months ago, all charming smiles and smooth one-liners. Of course you’d heard it all before so it really didn’t faze you at all. He became a regular after that. Flirting with you and asking for his usual with “sweetheart” or “darlin’” added at the end. He wasn’t obnoxious about his flirting, which is the only reason you didn’t mind it so much.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself until one night when you were closing up he stumbled right into you. Again, literally. He was bruised and bloodied and you tried to drive him to the hospital but he begged you not to. So you took him to your house instead. In hindsight, taking a near-stranger who also happens to be a part of a fearsome gang to your house was probably a bad idea. But it was Jesse. With the easy smiles and the bad pick-up lines. 

You took him home and cleaned up his wounds as best you could. You didn’t profess to be any sort of physician but living in a place like this you realized quickly you would need to learn how to take care of basic injuries. Thankfully, his ribs weren’t broken, just bruised, though you couldn’t say the same for his nose. You knew how to take care of that though. Bar fights and all.

He fell asleep right after you got him bandaged up and, with no other way to get him back to wherever he lived, you let him stay. He stayed the day after that, too, his ribs hurting too much to walk very far. And you noticed to your horror that despite all the drinking he did in your bar he was thin. Too thin. His ribs were clearly visible, and the bruising made it look even worse. So you let him stay. Just until he had had a good meal or two, you reasoned. 

But a few days turned into a week, turned into two, turned into 3 months and Jesse had been living with you the whole time. He confessed that he didn’t like being in the Deadlock gang and that he only joined because he saw no other choice at the time. He also told you that there was no way they were just going to let him go, so it would be safest for you if he just left now. But even when he said that he looked like he didn’t want to leave. So you gave voice to his conflicting emotions, “You don’t have to go, Jesse. I can take care of myself.” 

His brow furrowed and you could see the war going on inside of him in his eyes. When you cupped his face and forced him to look at you he relaxed. “Whatever happens, darlin’, you can’t fall in love with me.” he whispered, already leaning forward.

“I don’t think I’m in any danger of that.” you responded, and let the warmth of his lips take you over. It was a lie even then, and you both knew it on some level. There was no outcome that didn’t involve the two of you falling in love. It was always going to happen.

So yes, you were kicking yourself while being kicked. But not for falling in love. For being stupid enough to get caught. You liked to think you were resourceful. And you were a fast runner, you should’ve been able to get away, but those bastards threw a fucking flash bang in your face and there was no way you were getting away from them after that.

They wanted to know where Jesse was. They taunted you. Calling you his whore, saying they knew you were putting out for him and probably had been since he started coming into your bar. You didn’t respond to them. An impressive feat for someone who talks all the time. 

They beat you and locked you in a room with no windows, your hands bound behind your back. But you knew Jesse wouldn’t just let them take you so you waited. One day, two, and on the third day there was a commotion just outside your door. There was no one else it could be. It had to be, “Jesse...” you breathed as the door slid open to reveal your lover.

You could see the fury in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders drain instantly when he saw you. He rushed over to you, tilting your head this way and that, examining the various cuts and bruises you had accumulated. And then the fury was back. “I’m gonna kill those sons of bitches!” he roared, pulling a knife from his pocket and cutting the ropes around your wrists.

Right now you didn’t care about the men who had held you captive for three days, you just wanted to feel his arms around you. “Jesse.” you whimpered, throwing your newly freed arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest.

Jesse recognized the importance of getting you out of there above killing those who had hurt you. And the ones who had been there when he had come looking for you were dead or gone already anyway. He carried you out of the building bridal style and you laid your head on his shoulder. “I love you, Jesse.” you whispered, feeling very much like you could cry at any moment.

“Hey, hey, darlin’. I thought I told you not to fall in love with me.” he teased, brushing his lips across your forehead.

You smiled slightly, picking your head up, plucking his hat off of his head and plopping into yours. “Well now, I think I’ll take my chances, cowboy.”


End file.
